I Dream
by HystericalConfession
Summary: "I dream I'm dancing with you, and I can really move." Rose shares a dance with Jack, just the two of them.


**Hello!**

**Long time, no see! I'm back with a little oneshot inspired by Billie Piper's song "I Dream." The italicized lines are lyrics from that song. **

**Please enjoy xx**

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_I dream I'm dancing with you, and I can really move._

He clasps her hand in his, palm growing clammy from the sensation of skin upon skin. As she smiles shyly, her delicate fingers curl over his calloused ones, and a beautiful voice waltzes out of her mouth.

"Shall we?"

Heart leaping, he nods and steps back, her feet following the same pattern as his. The long skirt of her dress swings as she moves, lavender and ivory twirling together in a flurry of color while the pair dances.

Shoes clacking against the hardwood floor echo in the quietness around them, the sound floating throughout the empty room. This was where they first danced, at the party full of drunken third-class Irishmen. Without the uproarious guffaws, the screeching of fiddles, and the slamming of shot glasses onto tables, the place feels rather lonely, almost haunting.

Yet Jack and Rose are unmindful of such a vacancy. Their gazes bore into one another, their chests swelling with a passion only a blossoming romance can bring.

A string of words lingers on her tongue, begging to be spoken aloud; but she's nervous to utter them, uncertain if now is the right time, or if she should wait.

He says them first.

"Rose, I…"

_I dream you're kissing me, and I can really feel it._

The hand on her waist seems to scorch through the fabric of her clothes, and she's suddenly aware of how hot she feels. She's on fire for him, burning for his touch and his body against hers. She longs to _know _him, to become achingly familiar with every part of him, flesh and soul.

He stops in his tracks, yet refuses to loosen his hold on her. In fact, he tightens it, fingertips digging into her delicious skin.

"I love you."

She expels a soft sigh, her lashes brushing the top of her cheek as her eyelids flutter closed. The lovely phrase swirls in the air around them, and she parts her supple lips to repeat it.

Now it's his turn to be astounded, overwhelmed by emotion. Swept off his feet by a first-class princess that he never would have _imagined _would reciprocate his feelings.

Jack Dawson, a penniless artist from Wisconsin, dancing with the most amazing woman he'd ever known. A woman _way _out of his league; a woman that deserves the best things in life, things he can't give her, but she wants to be with him nonetheless.

His mouth meets hers, tender and gentle, their lips moving and melting together in a long, incredible, _fantastic _kiss.

The outside world ceases to exist; only the two of them are alive, breathing and living and loving, and it's the most perfect experience.

_I dream you're loving me with all your heart and soul._

She reaches up to stroke his face, but there's nothing beneath her touch.

Her fingers go right through him, like he's a ghost.

Smiling sadly, he brings the back of her hand to his lips and presses a kiss there, never breaking her gaze. Devastation swims in his blue eyes, and he heaves a sigh before stepping back.

Confusion etched onto her features, she gives him a puzzled look, a question forming on her tongue.

_Swear I can really feel it._

But then he's gone.

The image of the third-class room begins to fade away, the remnants of objects and colors becoming less and less vibrant with each passing second, before the entire picture disappears altogether.

Her eyes fly open.

Light from a nearby lamp floods her vision, and she remembers where she is: her bedroom in the home she shares with her great-granddaughter. Reading glasses dangle on the tip of her nose, threatening to fall off, and a heavy book lays open across her stomach.

She remembers now.

It's not 1912, and she's not aboard the _Titanic, _no matter how badly she wants to be, or how realistic that dream seemed.

Taking off the spectacles, she places them upon the nightstand and frowns at the sight of her wrinkled hands. She was beautiful, once, like when Jack loved her; but it's thanks to him that she was able to live long enough to watch her beauty fade in the first place.

She misses him.

But, until they meet again, dreams such as that have to be enough for her.


End file.
